


Capkink Fills

by KillTheDirector



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Capkink meme, Drabble dump, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: Place for the one shot fills on CapKink





	1. Tender In the Night

He came willingly. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, there is a whisper that says it will be much easier to go with them; that the man on the bridge won't rest until the Soldier is under his constant watch. 

He feels like his skin is a size too small, and when he's stripped of every weapon his has and is only down to the arm (and even that is soon taken away by the man in the metal suit), he feels helpless. 

The Soldier sits in the rafters of the ornate tower, quiet as a church mouse and choosing only to come out once everyone has gone to bed or has left on a mission. He paws through their things, putting them back just as they were and knows that the android who watches him constantly never says a word. 

When the arm is returned to him, he feels slightly less alien in his skin; he turns it in its socket, comforted by the whirr and hum of the machinery weighing down his left side. "I've updated the mechanics to something in this century; honestly, I don't know why HYDRA was letting you run around with Soviet issued machinery in the first place." He peers up from the arm to the man in the metal suit, watching a face that holds far too familiar expressions (he looks like his pop). 

His staring must have made the man uncomfortable because he lets out a too loud laugh, shifting from one foot to the other trying to get a foot hold in the situation again. "You okay there, big guy?" 

The Solider doesn't answer, instead he looks back down at his arm and walks away. 

()

He doesn't actively seek out the man on the bridge; they end up in the same room from time to time, the man making awkward eye contact before quickly looking away. The Soldier doesn't think about this because he wasn't ordered to think about this. 

He knows that the man has asked the others to watch out for him, either because he's afraid the Soldier will harm himself (that is the most likely reason) or someone else. 

The Red Woman asks (demands) to spar with him one day, easily finding him in one of his hiding places up in the rafters. He stares at her, and she stares back before he offers her a short nod. 

They walk to the gym, and he makes note of the escape routes and the weaknesses of the others who have gathered to watch. He catches the eyes of the Captain, who offers him a small grin. 

He turns away, reminding himself that this is only a spar and not an actual combat situation. The Red Woman is tying her hair up, and with a glance, throws him a small black hair tie. "I don't want to mess up your pretty hair." She says, deadpan, but he can detect a small smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. 

They face off on opposite sides of the mats; he can hear the man in the metal suit loudly asking for bets. "Who'll win today, folks? Nasty Natasha--" 

"Tony!"

"--Or Death On Ice? C'mon people, bets are closing soon!" 

The Soldier focuses his attention on the Red Woman, fingers flexing and heart slowing to a calm rhythm. 

They lunge at each other at the same time; he out weighs her, he knows, but she's flexible where he isn't. Their hits don't make any noise, but both release soft grunts of pain when a hit lands. 

Their spectators are rowdy; one man whom the Soldier has seen in the rafters calls out to the Red Woman. "Finish him, Nat!" The Captain appears calm, but the Soldier picks out tells of him becoming anxious when the fight drags on longer than expected. 

The Red Woman goes for his throat just as he goes for her's; his metal hand stops inches from delicate flesh, just as her's stops. Their other hands mark the points on the base of their skulls where a gun would be pointed. The Red Woman offers him a small smile, lowering her hands in surrender. "Looks like we're both dead." 

He lowers his hands after a moment, brows furrowed in slight confusion; why hadn't she gone for the kill when he had given her ample opportunity to do so? Didn't I teach you anything? He shakes his head, turning on his heel to retreat to his room. He hears the man in the metal suit asking who won, and the Red Woman replying no one did. "What? Ugh, I guess that means Bruce won." 

()

In a past life, before he was the Soldier and was actually a man, he is fairly certain he never was a sleepwalker. 

He stares at the door to the Captain's room, wondering why in the world his subconscious has brought him here of all places. Briefly, he thinks that maybe his mind is telling him to complete the mission, to kill the man on the bridge. 

Shaking his head, the Soldier steps forward, opening the door quietly. He slips into the room, footsteps silent as he pads up to the Captain's bed; he reasons that in order to confirm this isn't his mind's way of telling him to complete the mission, he must see the man. 

The Captain is peaceful looking, long lashes fanned out over slightly flushed cheeks; he is hugging his pillow like a child, murmuring softly with very breath. The Soldier frowns, flesh hand going out to brush away a few golden strands of hair that have fallen over the man's forehead. 

He tugs his hand back, glaring at it as if it's betrayed him; he looks back at the man, a sudden urge to crawl into bed beside him making the Soldier's limbs twitch. 

Glancing about, the Soldier places a knee on the bed, wincing when it lets out a low whine with the added weight. The man's eyes fly open, blue bleary with sleep as the land on the Soldier. "Bucky?" He asks, voice ragged and confused. 

The Soldier doesn't know how to answer, so he says nothing, remaining stock still as the man wakes up more. "What're you doing?" Again, he doesn't answer, staring at the Captain until he lets out a soft sigh. "Okay." He moves over, making room for two and shoves back the covers. He lies back down, glancing at the Soldier before closing his eyes. 

It's an invitation, the Soldier realizes; the Captain is a fool to allow me in his bed. his mind hisses as he cautiously lies down. His limbs relax, though, comforted by the heat of the body next to him. 

()

It becomes something of a routine when the Captain is in the tower. The Soldier still does not actively seek him out during the day (he isn't avoiding him); under the guise of night, and with the excuse that being near the man doesn't allow nightmares to plague his sleep, the Soldier climbs into the bed. 

Pressing himself against the Captain feels familiar, but there is a heat building under his skin that shouldn't (he tells himself) be there. They twine themselves together, and when the Soldier wakes (he leaves before the Captain rises, not wanting to have conversations) he feels his cock throb with desperation. 

Holing himself up in his room, or in his hiding spots, he mentally screams obscenities. When he allows himself some release, he bites down on the inside of his mouth until there is blood threatening to drown him. The Soldier doesn't go to the Captain's rooms for days. 

()

It is in a moment of weakness, when he has fallen asleep and wakes to find himself in front of the damn door, does he go back in. The Captain isn't asleep (he looks as if he hasn't been able to, the Soldier thinks, noting the dark bruises beneath too blue eyes). 

"Bucky." The Captain says on the end of a relieved breath. The Soldier feels his skin crawl at the name, wanting to never hear it again but also needing to hear it. 

He moves slowly, body buzzing with the need to touch the man. He doesn't know what he wants, doesn't know if he should soil whatever thing they have between them (and, at the same time, wanting to dirty it so completely that they have no choice but to continue). 

The Captain has made room on the bed, like always. He offers the Soldier a sleepy grin, getting ready to lie down when a metal hand stops him; he looks confused, and there is a voice somewhere in the back of the Soldier's mind that is screaming Stop! 

He leans forward, eyes flickering over the man's face before he presses their lips together. They don't move, both not entirely sure with the situation before the Soldier backs away. He frowns, tilting his head and allowing his tongue to catch whatever taste of the man that is left on his lips. 

The air is thick around them, like a string that is wound too tight. The Soldier plays with the idea of intimacy with the Captain, feeling something settle in his stomach and purring with the possibility. He searches his mind for a way to possibly contribute, or diffuse the situation, and finds an easy smirk tilting up the corner of his mouth. "That the best you can do?" 

The string of uncertainty is broken, and the Captain lurches forward, bringing their mouths together with a clack of teeth. They both jolt in surprise, the Captain pulling back to laugh awkwardly. The Soldier stares at the pink dusting over the man's cheeks, lifting his metal hand to stroke at the warm skin. 

When they first come together, the Soldier doesn't sink his teeth into the Captain's neck like some part of him wants to; he doesn't draw blood when he rocks against the man, thrusting slowly and building up to a crescendo that leaves them breathless. 

Some part of him knows that the Captain has never experienced this sort of intimacy (the small frowns that he thinks he doesn't notice when another date goes wrong, and then the war and there's no time to think about that sort of thing when your hand is good enough, and maybe we can pick you up a nice gal in Paris, Stevie?). 

He takes his time tearing down walls with his mouth and fingers, breath stuttering when he comes himself, shocked when he keeps coming back night after night. 

The Soldier wonders, when they've both been spent and he's pulling away to leave so there isn't any chance of conversations, if there was anyway that they could've been like this before. The feeling of the Captain wrapped around him so perfectly isn't familiar, however; the taste of him in the Soldier's mouth is completely foreign. 

With every night he spends in the Captain's presence, the Soldier feels his world beginning to brighten; he wonders if there is anyway that he could return to being who he was before, and when the Captain gasps out "BuckyBuckyBucky" the Soldier finds that he has more initiative to do so.


	2. Blue

Blue

That was the first thing my mind whispered to me when the Solider's goggles fell to the cracked cement, the sound echoing through my head as we stared at each other. Strands of hair clung to the Soldier's face, the mask (muzzle) and the heavy kohl rubbed around those damn eyes.

They were so blue, so familiar that it made me want to scream. 

I blinked and suddenly had to block hits and feint knife points that whispered through the air. My hits were clumsy, my breath coming out in shocked gasps as those eyesglared up at me from under dark lashes. 

It reminded me of pulling him out of the HYDRA base, stumbling down pitted hillsides and hiding behind bullet-pocked trees. "I thought I took all the stupid with me?" A quick smirk and blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

I managed to knock the mask away, the kevlar muzzle skittering away and resting a few feet from us. Eyes like a tundra, like the deepest depths of nebula glared up at me, and I felt my mouth go dry. "...Bucky?" My own voice sounded strained, broken and far too confused. 

Blue eyes lightened a shade till they were almost the colour of the sky of sno cones shared and trips to Cony Island; of childhood and shy kisses that tasted of raspberry on top of the ferris wheel. A second later, recognition(?) faded and deepened to annoyed (confused, broken) blue as dark as the Mariana Trench. 

"Who the hell is Bucky?"


End file.
